


sugar and spite

by forpuckssake



Series: ice queen [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF, Women's Hockey RPF
Genre: Gen, Origin Story, Women in the NHL, elle is so done with men, some blatant sexism but are we really surprised, some girls thrive on spite and elle queen is definitely one of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 11:34:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18342866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forpuckssake/pseuds/forpuckssake
Summary: It was convenient that the peewee hockey team shared the ice with the tiny tots skating group, each group with one side of the ice. Calvin was able to skate along with his hockey stick and trip over pads and pucks, and Elle… well.Elle couldn’t seem to focus on figure skating.---Alternatively, a few moments that led to the history being made at the 2023 NHL Entry Draft.





	sugar and spite

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to everyone that read and commented and left kudos on the last one! 
> 
> this story takes place before it takes grit, it takes grace, since this is about elle's draft day. i'll post the order in the series description for future endeavors, but this series is going to be more like a series of snapshots rather than in chronological order
> 
> you don't need to have read the first party to understand this, but if you want to know a little bit more about elle feel free to read the first one 
> 
> thanks everyone :)
> 
> ps i'm sorry about typos i'm just so bad at editing my own work because i know what's supposed to be there and my brain doesn't pick up one whats not supposed to be there y'know? feel free to alert me to any mistakes and i will gladly fix them!
> 
> title is a play on the saying that girls are made up of sugar, spice, and everything nice
> 
> (elle is just spite. that's it.)

When their kids were five years old, the Queens decided that it was time to put them on the ice.

Their kids had been on the ice many times already, of course. As a former college hockey player and figure skater respectively, Ryan and Gabriella Queen had skated with their kids many times. Perched on hips or slipping along with firm hands under their arms, Calvin and Elle had been on the ice since before they even knew what it was.

It was convenient that the peewee hockey team shared the ice with the tiny tots skating group, each group with one side of the ice. Calvin was able to skate along with his hockey stick and trip over pads and pucks, and Elle… well.

Elle couldn’t seem to focus on figure skating.

At least once per session, Gabriella often had to call out to her daughter to return to her side of the ice. Elle was not content to learn to skate and spin like the other girls—she saw her brother with a hockey stick and a puck, and she wanted one, too.

She still couldn’t skate all that well, but if she fell, she would simply slide her way across the ice until she got to where she wanted to go or until one of the hockey coaches noticed her, scooped her up, and deposited her back on her side of the ice.

After two weeks of Elle escaping to the other side of the ice, Gabriella was ready to tear her hair out.

“Why don’t you like figure skating, baby?” she cooed while Ryan drove them home from another practice where their daughter had crossed to the opposite side of the ice a record-breaking six times.

Elle shrugged. “I like it,” she said flatly.

Ryan looked far too amused as he focused on the road. “Are you sure, Elle?”

“Yeah but I wanna play with Cal.”

Calvin wrinkled his nose. “Girls don’t play hockey.”

“Girls can play hockey,” Gabriella was quick to correct her son with a frown. No child of hers was about to say girls couldn’t do _anything_.

Elle perked up, small feet kicking excitedly at her car seat. “I can play hockey?”

Ryan couldn’t suppress his laughter that time, and Gabriella had to squawk at him to focus on the road.

“You’re already signed up for figure skating, baby,” Gabriella said. “Just one year, okay? Then if you want to play hockey, you can play hockey.”

Elle frowned distrustfully. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

 

* * *

 

 

A year later when it was time to sign the kids up for another season of their ice related sports, Elle grasped her mother’s sleeve. “I can play hockey now?”

Gabrielle had to suppress a groan. She had hoped that hockey would be a phase. “Yes, baby, you can play hockey now.”

Ryan cackled about it later when they were turning out the light to go to sleep. “You promised.”

Gabriella sighed. “Yes, I know.”

 

* * *

 

 

The first time they stuck Elle in the goal, she was _not_ happy about it.

“I wanna skate!” she whined on the way home from the fifth practice of the season.

Gabriella perked up. “You want to go back to figure skating?”

“No, wanna skate! I wanna shoot the puck and score all the goals!”

“You can’t score _all_ the goals,” Calvin replied snippily. “You have to _share_.”

“ _You_ don’t share.”

“Guys,” Ryan said warningly. “Don’t start.”

Elle’s eyes started tearing up and her lip wobbled dangerously. “I don’t wanna be a goalie.”

The coaches had been rotating the kids through various positions, even though they were basically chickens with their heads cut off when they were released onto the ice. Most of them had no clue what they were doing still, and coaches were trying to give everyone an opportunity to play each position.

Gabriella sighed. She felt like sighing was all she did when it came to her stubborn daughter. “Just give it a try, baby.”

 

* * *

 

 

Elle caught her first puck as a goalie, Calvin cheered, and that was all she wrote.

Gabriella accepted her fate of lugging around two bags of hockey gear wherever they went, one with goalie pads and one without, and Ryan was all too happy to carry them around.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Elle was ten, there weren’t any other girls on the team.

The other girls had either moved away or moved on to other things. Elle’s best friend was starting soccer at school instead, and the only two other girls that had been on the team had each moved to different states. Gabriella wondered if they still played hockey, wherever they were.

“Maybe we should look into finding her a girls team,” she suggested one night to her husband, climbing into bed next to him.

Ryan didn’t even look up from his book. “Why?”

“So she won’t be alone,” Gabriella said. “I’m worried about her. Boys can be mean.”

Ryan quirked an eyebrow and finally looked up. “I’m sorry, but have you _met_ our daughter?”

“She’s ten and the smallest one out there! They could squish her.”

“You underestimate her just a little, Gabi.”

 

* * *

 

 

A boy from another team said something mean and nasty to Elle, and she threw down her blocker in the middle of a game and punched him right in the cage.

Ryan didn’t even pretend to be mad as their daughter was ejected from the game, a bit of blood on her knuckles and a fire in her eyes while Gabriella fretted on the bleachers.

Calvin knocked his stick against the ice and smiled viciously at the boy that his sister had just punched, promising revenge with a single glance. He smacked Elle on the back as she passed him to head off to the locker room.

Gabriella watched the last five minutes of the game through her fingers, cringing every time Calvin aimed barely legal checks at the boy Elle had punched.

After the game when they were driving home, Ryan asked his kids what had happened.

“Oh, nothing much,” Elle said with a shrug, staring out the window. “He was just bugging me.”

“He told her she was only a goalie because she didn’t know how to fight,” Calvin said gleefully. He had obviously gained a whole new level of respect for his sister.

Gabriella groaned. “You’re not supposed to fight. _Either of you_. You could get hurt.”

“Don’t worry, Mom, I’m fine,” Elle promised, grinning toothily. “Boys are dumb. They don’t bother me.”

As Calvin voiced his protests and a round of arguing broke out in the back seat, Gabriella thought back to a couple of nights ago when she had voiced her worry for her daughter.

 _“Boys can be mean,”_ Ryan had agreed. _“But it’s not_ Elle _I’m worried about.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Elle was accepted to Ridley College when she turned fifteen, and she cried.

Calvin hugged his sister and didn’t say anything even remotely rude or snippy as she sobbed into his shoulder.

“The NWHL is just one step away,” Gabriella said proudly, rubbing her daughter’s back.

Elle looked up with a frown, wiping away tears. “No, I’m going to play in the _NHL_.”

Gabriella frowned right back. “Honey, you’re not—”

“Calvin told me I couldn’t,” Elle interrupted her. “We were eight and he said girls don’t play in the NHL. You know I _have_ to be right, Mom.”

“She’s the smart one,” Calvin agreed sarcastically, and they broke into bickering after two whole minutes of being nice to each other.

Gabriella wondered if a day would ever come where her daughter didn’t thrive on spite alone.

 

* * *

 

 

When Calvin made it onto the London Knights at sixteen, he called Elle and she cried again.

“You’re really gonna do it,” Gabriella heard her daughter say on speakerphone. “They’re pretty good at getting people into the NHL.”

“I’ll see you at the top,” Calvin replied firmly.

Gabriella hid a frown. She didn’t have the heart to tell them that the world so rarely gave people what they wanted. It was even more rare for women to get the things they wanted, especially when that thing was completely dominated by men.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself. She would hold Elle’s hand through whatever happened, because that was a mother’s job.

 

* * *

 

 

They decided to do it together.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. _Calvin_ had decided that they would do it together by very firmly saying, “I’m not doing this without you.”

Even at eighteen, he seemed to think that their stereotypical twins-do-everything-together routine should remain in place. And Elle was not about to let him give up his dream just because she wouldn’t be there with him.

It was kind of funny, really. Calvin had been the first person to ever say to Elle that girls couldn’t play hockey, and now he refused to try for his dream if she wouldn’t try for hers, too.

Calvin and Elle Queen entered the 2023 NHL entry draft, and the entire hockey world _lost its_ _mind_.

 

* * *

 

 

“If you don’t get drafted before me, I’m gonna riot.”

Elle snorted. “Prepare yourself, then.”

They had received nothing but weird looks the moment they came into the building. Their parents sat on either side of them, partly so that they could sit in the middle beside each other and partly so that no one would bother them—specifically, so no one would bother _Elle_. They had tried to mic her up like they often did to the top prospects, and she had said no for the sole purpose of the world not hearing her brother shit all over the NHL for not drafting her when it inevitably happened.

“I hate that you’re right,” Calvin sighed. “All these GMs don’t have eyes if they don’t take an opportunity to draft you. It’s wild.”

“Nah bro, that’s sexism at its finest. My chances aren’t good. We already know the NHL hates women.”

A guy in the row in front of them turned to look over his shoulder, an eyebrow quirked. Elle stared unimpressed back, and Calvin leaned forward like he was daring him to say something. The guy turned around without a word.

Calvin sighed again, this time much more frustrated than before. Their mom reached across Elle to pat his leg, smiling reassuringly.

“No matter what happens, I love you both so much, and I admire you for choosing to do this,” Gabriella said.

Elle nodded back mutely. She couldn’t bring herself to lie to her mother and say that she was ready, and Gabriella’s heart broke just a little.

 

* * *

 

 

Calvin went in the second round, forty-second overall, and he did not look at all pleased to be selected by the Montreal Canadians. He hugged Elle and his parents and then walked up to the stage, scowling the whole way there.

Elle cheered for him the loudest, and even though she had known the whole time that she would never be drafted, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy alongside her joy at her brother being drafted without her.

The third round came and went, and the fourth, and the fifth. Hers was not a name called amongst other male names, so she continued to sink lower in her seat while her parents held her hands.

The sixth round started off just as uneventful at the others, and Elle had long since tuned out what was being said. She was too busy staring fixated at the nice flats she had bought specifically to go with her dress. Gabriella held her daughter’s hand, heart sinking with each name that wasn’t Elle’s being called.

“… Eleanor Queen.”

Elle’s head snapped up, her eyes wide, and she found that she was suddenly being broadcast on the big screens in the room. There was polite clapping, but there was mostly hushed, confused murmuring.

Gabriella shrieked and started sobbing loudly, pulling her daughter to her feet pulling her into a hug. Her father had never looked so shell-shocked in his entire life, but he did not look anything other than happy underneath it all.

“Who picked me?” she demanded. She could barely hear her own words above the thudding of her heartbeat in her ears.

“You were picked by the Flyers,” Gabriella blubbered, and then pushed her into the aisle to walk up to where an orange jersey was waiting for her.

 

* * *

 

 

For someone who had been selected in the sixth round, Elle had attracted more media than most people in the first round seemed to. Gabriella wouldn’t watch the interview until much later, but it never ceased to amaze her that her own daughter was the first girl to be drafted into the NHL.

_“How does it feel to be the first female drafted by an NHL team?”_

_“What is your training like to be able to play with the men?”_

_“Do you think your brother will go easy on you if you ever face each other?”_

_“How do you think other teams will react to playing against you?”_

Elle answered each question as calmly as she could, trying to be respectful even in the face of blatant sexism in some of the questions. Elle knew she wouldn’t be doing herself any favors by painting herself as a difficult player, especially as a woman.

Of course, her good behavior only lasted until someone asked, “What is your response to people saying that women don’t belong in the NHL?”

Elle wished she was as meek as they seemed to expect her to be, she really did. It would have made her response much more controlled and not nearly as angry.

“You mean what is my response to _men_ saying that women don’t belong in the NHL?” she asked. “If you’re going to ask me that question, don’t group in _everyone_. Every woman I have ever met has been supportive of me.”

“Well, what is your response?”

“A nice and polite ‘fuck you,’” Elle said sweetly. “Tell me where women do and don’t belong when men stop telling women what to do with their bodies even though they’re not the ones that experience periods or pregnancy or abortion, or when they have to deal with someone telling them they don’t belong in a sport that they’ve _spent their_ _entire life playing_.”

There was stunned silence, and then a nervous laugh and hesitant, “That’s a little aggressive, don’t you think?”

“Why, because I’m right?” Elle snorted. “Welcome to hockey, man. It’s an aggressive sport. You’re being a little _emotional_ , aren’t you?” She bared her teeth in a falsely sweet smile. “If you can’t handle it like a grown-ass man, maybe you should go report on a sport with less aggressive people. Like curling. I’m sure they’re _lovely_.”

His mouth fell open in an _O_ , and cameras flashed.

Elle scowled. “If you wanted polite media answers, you picked the wrong person to ask. Ask me relevant questions or get out of my face.”

Gabriella bookmarked the interview. She would need to look at it whenever she was having a bad day to have a little laugh.

 

* * *

 

 

Elle kind of wanted a hole to just appear and swallow her into the Earth as she and her family struggled to make it back to the peace of their hotel room. Calvin hadn’t stopped cackling since Elle had told her family what happened, and he didn’t show any sign of stopping anytime soon.

When they finally made it back to their hotel, Calvin rounded on her instantly, grabbing her so tightly that she thought her ribs might break as he jumped up and down with her in his arms, yelling some kind of incomprehensible nonsense in her ears.

“Keep it down, Cal. We don’t need a noise complaint,” Ryan said, but he was grinning too wide to be taken serious.

Elle felt like she might cry as Calvin released her. “I messed up so bad,” she said. “Oh my god, I’m still mortified. They’re never going to sign me now.”

“Shut the fuck up, they’re going to love you,” Calvin said.

“Language, Calvin,” their mother scolded, but he wasn’t listening.

“It’s true!” Calvin insisted. “You and I both watched the mic’d up Stadium Series video from 2019. The Flyers are a team of people that could verbally destroy someone. You’re a perfect fit.”

“I hope you’re right. The Flyers are a scrappy team, for sure.”

Calvin hummed. “They’ve got some scrappy enemies, too. If I ever see one of those Penguins bastards do anything to you, they’ll gain a third rival in Montreal. They’re gonna think the Caps are, like, _saints_ in comparison.”

Elle scowled. “You can’t just go around threatening to beat up people who are shitty to me. That’ll only make it harder for me to be taken seriously.”

Calvin frowned right back. “Fine, I’ll just wish very unpleasant things on them. I hope they can never find a tissue when they need it. I hope they lose their favorite tie. I hope their shoelaces are always longer on one side than the other so they’re lopsided when they tie them.”

“You’re a dweeb.”

“Shut up, you love me.”

Elle couldn’t deny that.

Gabriella pulled both of her children to her. She thought back to them at five years old, tiny and wide-eyed and so full of excitement to be on the ice; she thought back to each time she had tired to goad Elle into figure skating over hockey, how she had worried for her daughter’s safety in a male-dominated sport, how she had been so certain that Elle would never make it playing hockey when all she wanted was to be in the NHL.

And now, there she was. Both of her kids had made it into the NHL on their first try.

“Thank god you hated figure skating,” she said, and Elle’s laugh rang out through the room.

It was the same gleeful laugh that she used to let out as a toddler slipping across ice on uncoordinated legs or winning a game. Gabriella hoped she would never lose that laugh.


End file.
